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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382847">goodnight moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/krissuwu/pseuds/krissuwu'>krissuwu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Flowers and Moonlight, Grief, Healing, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Jongdae’s Birthday Week 2020, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:48:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/krissuwu/pseuds/krissuwu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae finds Kyungsoo in the meadow, shining down on him and his flowers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongdae | Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Challenge #7 — Out of Order</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>goodnight moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>BEFORE YOU READ:<br/>This fic is written in present-past-present format, and is based on the poem “For her surgery” by Jack Butler. The sections of the fic correspond to sections of the poem, and i’ve only put in small pieces of it here. I highly recommend you to read the whole thing because it is very beautiful.</p><p>Anyways! This is my second time participating in this challenge and i love it so very much! Thank you mods for all the wonderful work you do :-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Down at the river, there is a tall</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ghost tossing flowers to dark water—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>jessamine, rose, and daisy, salvia lyrata</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><span>In a meadow behind the mountain, there is a picnic bench. Its wood is a dark spruce, worn and overgrown with dandelions. Jongdae’s bare feet pad through grass and bloom as he trepidatiously picks his</span> <span>way towards the bench.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jongdae sits at the end of the bench, bouncing his leg. “Well,” he says to the meadow. “I’m here, I guess.” The moon hangs, nearly full, above him, a few lightning bugs bumble by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Minseok said it would help to visit you…” Jongdae jerks his head in different directions, not sure where to direct the words, and it feels...awkward, and embarrassing. “...but I wasn’t sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>where </span>
  </em>
  <span>exactly that would be.” He chuckles, and a moth lands on the corner of the picnic table, curling its wings in. “The truth is I’m still having trouble finding you.” The last word comes out in more of a sob. Jongdae bites his lip, folding his hands in his lap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks up and sees the moon, round, glowing, and a tear falls from his eye. There was a story he used to read as a child, and something clicks in his mind as he stares at the moon. “Are you there?” Jongdae whispers. “Are you there, Kyungsoo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s something about the moon that pulls him in, making him lean closer on the bench. “I miss you.” His hands clench over the edges of the picnic table. “I miss you so fucking much.” And he cries. He cries for the first time in months, slumping into the table. It’s not as painful as last time. It’s cathartic, his heart unclenching in the same way it always did when Kyungsoo was there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jongdae sits there for hours, catching Kyungsoo up on the months he’s missed, and, for once, it feels like he can finally breathe again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Over the city the moon rides in mist,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>scrim scarred with faint rainbow. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The thin clouds run slow, slow,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>the wind bells bleed the quietest</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>of possible musics to the dark lawn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The day before Kyungsoo dies, he takes Jongdae to the meadow to see the flowers. Jongdae supports his lover’s weight with an elbow for him to hold, and a watchful eye to make sure he doesn’t step in any rabbit holes. Kyungsoo leads him all around the meadow, picking flowers for Jongdae, and telling him each one’s meaning with a sparkle in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kyungsoo leads Jongdae to a picnic bench, surrounded by full dandelions. Kyungsoo bends down, gripping Jongdae’s arm tightly, and picks one, bringing it up between them. “I wish you happiness, and love, Kim Jongdae.” He blows the dandelion, the fuzz getting in Jongdae’s mouth, up his nose, and poking his eyes. He sputters indignantly, reeling away from his lover with a whine. Kyungsoo laughs, his mouth forming that wonderful heart shape that Jongdae loves so much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>wish you’d stop bullying me.” Jongdae pouts as he helps Kyungsoo sit on the bench. His lover rolls his eyes dramatically, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, and Jongdae can’t resist, leaning it to give him a chaste kiss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stay there until the moon comes up, hanging up above them in a thin crescent. “There’s a flower that only blooms at nighttime.” Kyungsoo says quietly, his big, wide, eyes staring up at the moon. “Epiphyllum oxypetalum. Queen of the Night.” Jongdae nods along, like he always does when Kyungsoo starts going on about flowers. He doesn’t understand, but knows they’re beautiful, and Kyungsoo loves them. And he loves Kyungsoo. “It reminds me of you.” His gaze settles back on Jongdae, his smile subdued, but still warm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re different at nighttime. You come home to me and you blossom. So different from the office day job Jongdae.” Jongdae’s hand finds his across the table. He doesn’t respond, squeezing his lover’s fingers, and bringing them up to his mouth to press a flower petal kiss to each digit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kyungsoo grips his arm tightly as they walk home, anchoring himself to the land. Jongdae helps him bathe, helps him dress, and holds him while he sleeps, listening to the rattling of his lungs as he breathes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kyungsoo dies in his arms, in their bed, under the moonlight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh goodbye, goodbye to bloom in the white blaze</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>of moon on the river, goodbye</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>to creek joining the creek joining the river</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I brought you something special.” Jongdae smiles. He places the picnic basket on the table, pulling out a speaker, an MP3 player, and a bonsai tree. There’s a Queen of the Night bloom wound around the handle. He grabs the MP3 player, plugging it into the speaker and presses play, soft music floating out over the meadow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now playing: Moonglow.MP3</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve been taking care of your bonsai tree.” Jongdae says, turning the tree around, showing it off to the bright, full, moon overhead. “It’s probably not as good as you would usually do it, but I’m trying my best, I swear!” He clips the branches, as careful as if Kyungsoo were there with him, a thick eyebrow raised, twitching with each mistake he makes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finishes, Jongdae pulls out the pasta salad he’d made earlier, unwrapping the bowl and placing it in the middle of the table. “It’s your favorite. I’ve gotten quite good at making it, actually.” Somewhere, an owl hoots. The music plays softly while Jongdae eats in silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jongdae leaves the last half of the salad in the bowl, pulling out a book from the basket. “I found this poem yesterday by a western man named Jack Butler, I think you’ll like it.” He pauses on the page. “I love you, Do Kyungsoo.” He whispers, and then he begins to read.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I raise a glass half water, half alcohol,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>to that light come full again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We are grown,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and time has thrown us free under the timeless moon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
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